


Mage: Descend

by NervousOtaku (orphan_account)



Series: Tales of a 144 Player Fansession! [11]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Derse Dreamers, Dreamselves, Horrorterrors - Freeform, SBURB Fan Session, Subconscious horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 06:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10611192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/NervousOtaku
Summary: Or: I Looked Into The Void And The Void Swallowed My Soul





	

He couldn't move.

He could feel his body shaking, every breath rattling in and out, but every fiber of muscle was too taut to move.

The voices.

Oh, _mercy_ , the _voices_.

He just had to. He just had to wake up on Derse during an eclipse. He just had to go outside, not content with simply waking up. He just had to look up. He just had to look into the void.

The voices were overwhelming. So many, all at once, talking, talking, talking, talking, talking, talking, talking, talking, talking, _talking_ , please just _shut up_ , please, _please_...

It felt _wrong_. It felt like something was _touching_ him, but something _inside_. Something had worked it's way in and taken root there, tamping down a nest and settling in. It was _wrong_ , he could _feel_ how _wrong_ it was, and he just wanted to _cry_ , but he couldn't tear his eyes away, couldn't do _anything_ other than _look_. He was caught. All he could do was stare into the void and listen as They talked.

Something was clapped over his ears, and music suddenly overtook the talking.

’Ride Of The Valkyries?’

His head was forced down, tearing his gaze away from Them, and he wanted to melt. He almost did, sagging against the person with their hand on his head. If this was not what they wanted, they gave no indication of this. They even went so far as to wrap their arms around him and start carrying him, flying somewhere. He found himself tuning out, so utterly grateful to this stranger for silencing Them and tearing his gaze away...

He only tuned back in once he'd been deposited on a bed, the music still blaring in his ears.

His savior was another guy, somewhat sharper and more mature-looking. Leaning in close, he yelled, “Stay put, I'll be right back!” next to the headphones Kevin now realized he was wearing. He could barely hear him, but nodded.

The other guy turned and left out the window, taking off and quickly vanishing. For an instant, Kevin felt his gut drop, but They couldn't get him in here. He couldn't hear Them or see Them right now, so he was _safe_.

Not much later, the other guy returned with a record-player and an armload of record-sleeves. Kevin was amazed such things even still _existed_.

Blinds were put up over the window, and the record-player set up. Now the other dreamer turned to him, carefully removing the headphones. Kevin cringed, waiting for the talking...

It didn't come.

Instead, he was listening to what sounded like a string quartet of some kind? Possibly? He didn't know, he wasn't very up and knowledgeable about his music, let alone the classics.

But thanks to this music, he couldn't hear Them.

“I've seen some bad reactions to the horrorterrors, but none like _that_. Pretty drastic there.” the other guy commented, briefly touching his forehead.

“Horror...?” Kevin mumbled, trailing off in confusion.

“The things lurking out in the void. Pygmalion called them the Outer Gods, but said the generic term is horrorterrors.”

“Oh... I... see...”

“Literally no one else I've seen react to them was like that, though. You practically became a statue.”

“Well, you can _hear_ them, right?!” Kevin defended. “They just... they don't _shut up!_ They talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk _and talk_ and _oh my god_ I can't stop _thinking_ about it!”

“No, I hear them. I'm pretty sure all of us do. But _you_... you seem to hear them better than anyone else. I wonder why?”

Kevin let out a small sniffle, huddling up into a ball.

“... I'm Clint, by the way.”

“Oh. Um. Kevin.” he replied with a nod, unfurling the tiniest bit.

Clint nodded back, peeking out through the blinds.

“Which tower is yours? I have no problem trading.”

“I, I couldn't!”

“So you're fine with flying back to your tower once the eclipse passes?”

Kevin opened his mouth to say that he was, but... no, he wasn't.

“So which tower?”

Getting off the bed, Kevin moved to peer through the blinds as well. “Um... That one, that looks like the palace-towers are flanking it?”

“I see it. Feel free to stay here and rest— Pretty sure I was drugged, so I'm not waking up for a while. I'll switch out our belongings.” Clint nodded, moving the blinds aside and clambering up onto the sill.

“... Thanks...” Kevin mumbled as the other dreamer vanished. He had no clue if he'd been heard or not.

Sighing a bit, he returned to the bed and flopped over on it.

Somewhat surprisingly, he found himself waking up again on his planet, in his own bed.

No more music. No more incessant talking.

 _But_...

Kevin whimpered, gripping his chest.

It felt _wrong_. It felt like something was _touching_ him, something deep within. Something had taken root, tamped down a nest, and settled in, making some dark corner of his soul it's new home.

It felt _so wrong_...

When he closed his eyes, he could hear a faint murmuring.


End file.
